


somnambulisms

by kkeut (xiyings)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Gen, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-21
Updated: 2014-06-21
Packaged: 2018-02-05 14:53:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1822450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xiyings/pseuds/kkeut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>baekhyun slips between jongin's fingers like sand through an hourglass; and jongin wakes up until he doesn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	somnambulisms

**Author's Note:**

> warnings: unrequited love, suicide

The first time it happens, Jongin blames it on exhaustion. They're all crowded into the van after some performance on a music show--Jongin doesn't know which one, they all start to blend together after the fifth reshooting--and all of the members are already passed out. It hadn't been an easy broadcast, everybody had been so drained from endless rounds of promotions that they'd danced worse than usual; even Jongin had fucked up a move or two, which never happens. Their manager had yelled at them accordingly, leaving them burnt out and bitter with the industry. Business as usual. He's sitting plopped in between Sehun and Baekhyun, when he feels long fingers wrapping around his own. He looks up, startled. Baekhyun flashes him his puppy-incisor smile and squeezes reassuringly. Jongin draws in a sharp breath.

"We're all so tired, aren't we?" Baekhyun's voice is softer than it usually is. It doesn't have the bite it has when he's trying to get something he wants. 

Jongin reaches out to touch Baekhyun's cheek. He wonders if the thick layers of BB cream that the stylists apply every day will make them slick. He hopes they're like his predebut cheeks; pockmarked with crescents of acne and dimpled with little imperfections. Little cracks in Baekhyun's exterior that Jongin wants to slip into and swim in, the parts of Baekhyun that the public never gets to see. He's closer than he's ever been, now. Baekhyun's eyes spark abyss-like under a grimy streetlight. Jongin is reaching towards him.

The van screeches to a halt at some intersection and Jongin pitches forward in his seat, eyes snapping open and head colliding with Sehun's, who groans in protest. He whips his head around to check on Baekhyun. A stoplight cloaks his face in blood-clot. He's snuggled into his seat belt, contented yips escaping his throat as he snores. Jongin should've known, honestly.

Baekhyun only touches him when the fans are watching.

★

It's okay when Jongin is sleeping. It's safe when the only times he touches Baekhyun are in states of semi-consciousness that wrap around Jongin's body and dance him drunk with sleepy longing. It's fine because Jongin wakes up and knows that the pretty fingers that wrap around his neck and pull him close are not the same as the ones that hug him at the airport, eyes clouded with temporary cataracts from camera flashes. 

The real Baekhyun wakes him up and pulls him open for the fans to pick apart, curious med-students dissecting their first extremely handsome cadaver. They always extract the heart first. He bets it's still racing from close contact when they drop it into a jar for later. They'll probably post it on Twitter and comment on the redness of his aortic branches. Jongin isn't concerned with reality. He's the only one who'll notice himself staring too long at the veins in Baekhyun's neck when he strains to hit a high note.

★

It happens again the next week in the practice room. Everyone is passed out on the floor, having over-exerted themselves in preparation for some year end show. Jongin is lying on the floor collapsed face-first, beginning to doze off, when he feels hands encircling his waist. 

"I can feel you slipping," Baekhyun husks, hands kneading soothing circles into Jongin's waist. 

"Hyung I-" 

"Don't try and tell me that your waist isn't completely shot." Baekhyun cuts him off before he can spit out a terrible excuse about how he hurt his waist bending down to feed Jjangu. "You walk like an old man lately, Jongin." Baekhyun flips Jongin over. He's crouched over him now, studying his face the way one would a newspaper headline about genocide in some third-world country. He's leaning in, now. Baekhyun's lips are far rougher than Jongin had imagined; small callouses are tacked into the corners, a cork board marked by nights spent pressed against a microphone trying to make himself sound more like the vocalist they shipped to China. Jongin kisses Baekhyun hard, willing the uselessness into his own body.

Junmyeon finds him the next morning, face stuck to the floor with sweat. He fixes him with a concerned, pitying expression and drags his bedraggled body to breakfast.

Baekhyun doesn't even look at him. Jongin supposes that he's still a headline, in a way. Nobody reads the newspaper anymore.

★

Jongin loves to dance; he loves the way he can almost feel his blood sloshing through his system as he spins himself dizzy; and he loves the ring in his ears when fans scream themselves hoarse with every dip and sway of his body; but most of all, he loves the sleep that comes afterwards.

★

Summer comes, and with it, brings sudden storms.

Thunderstorms are the worst part of living in the dorms, for Jongin. One clap of thunder and he's shaking, and not the kind of shaking he does on stage. There's no Monggu here for Jongin to bury his face into. 

One night, he sleeps through a storm, and feels Baekhyun wrapped around his body like a security blanket. Long fingers run through blonde hair. He wakes up feeling more whole than ever.

Jongin sleeps a lot that summer.

★

 

In many ways, Jongin grows to prefer the Baekyun that he dreams up. This Baekhyun holds his hand before they go on stage when Jongin is trembling so hard that dancing is nearly impossible. He never avoids Jongin after broadcasts. Everything about him is softer. They cuddle and watch anime on their days off. Jongin grows complacent. The Real Baekhyun is rawer, louder, rougher. Jongdae knows this better than anyone.

Jongin knows this because he can hear it through the walls.

★

It's fairly easy to get the doctor to prescribe him the sleeping pills. He's an idol, after all. His schedule doesn't allow him the best schedule.

He goes home, lies down, and swallows twenty four.

Jongin knows that he can only sleep for so long.

**Author's Note:**

> this is all carmen's fault.


End file.
